The Princess in the Tower
by Meredith T. Tasaki
Summary: Luke wasn't sure how he had got to this school, or why the Professor was acting so strangely; but Flora was in trouble, and he was not going to stand by and watch.
1. the scarlet academy

The Princess in the Tower

Rating: PG (some Luke/Flora)

Summary: Luke wasn't sure how he had got to this school, or why the Professor was acting so strangely; but Flora was in trouble, and he was not going to stand by and watch.

Notes: For the fan meme, though it was honestly more an excuse than anything else. ^^ A bit too long for me to comfortably post there, though. Would've been like thirty posts. _ So, I present to you a diluted, (hopefully) slightly less mindscrewy retelling of Adolesence of Utena. It is a bit Luke/Flora (though not too strongly), I've switched fathers for princes, and it owes an obvious debt to maskalade's Pocketwatches and Ducttape (this will become apparent later). It shouldn't bee too difficult to follow if you haven't seen the movie, though honesty compels me to admit it probably would help a bit. *bows and runs away*

(~)

(the scarlet academy)

(~)

Luke hadn't expected America to look like this.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, really, but this was not it. This place was too... red. All brick and black filigree iron-- and except for that, it could've been St. Mystere or Folsense all over again. Maybe all small towns looked the same.

And of course there was a tower. Luke glared at it, tall and needle-thin, like an oxidized black rapier-blade thrust into the heart of the town. He didn't trust tall buildings, anymore. They usually meant trouble.

Wait, was there-- a platform up there? He squinted upward. It was pretty far up, but it looked big, and he wasn't sure how it could be staying up at all-- he couldn't see any braces, any supports. It couldn't just be floating. Could it?

"Ah, new boy~!"

Luke turned; a girl was standing behind him, with a round face and chin-length brown hair, wearing a blue school uniform. "Hi!" she said. "Welcome to the Academy. I'm Lucy."

"Er-- hi. My name's Luke." He offered a hand; she took it, with a girlish giggle. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but she couldn't quite place it.

"It's nice to meet you! There aren't a lot of boys here. When did you get here?"

"Er... just today," he answered. Come to think of it... something terribly strange was going on here. He couldn't quite remember how it was he'd arrived. He knew his parents had wanted to take him away-- he remembered that-- but he couldn't quite recall--

"Oh! Then someone should give you a tour!" She beamed, grabbing his arm.

"I-- I guess so--" said Luke, though it wasn't really necessary for him to agree; she was already pulling him through the streets, babbling about the store and the cafe and the city hall and the amusement park and--

"Where's the actual school?" he asked.

"Oh! We're getting there. It's at the centre of town, you see. Around the tower."

"Oh." Didn't it just figure.

"See? Here we are." She waved a hand. The buildings here were indistinguishable from the rest-- except-- they seemed to be piled on top of each other, with far too many stairs; like the tower of St. Mystere, just on a grander scale.

"This is the Academy," she said. "It's where children who don't have parents are taken care of. That's why there's dormitories--"

"Wait..." He was reasonably sure that he had parents.

"--we stay here until someone comes to get us. Or until we grow up, I guess, but that's really only for boys. Girls have to have someone to take care of them. It's miserable, waiting."

Luke blinked. "Ah--"

"Oh, look!" Lucy skipped forward, where a number of students had gathered, pressing into the crowd; he followed, wondering what they all were looking at.

"That's Juliet," said Lucy, pointing at the orange-haired girl. They were-- fencing, Luke thought, bewildered but intrigued. He'd never seen a proper fencing bout before. And he'd never seen a girl with a sword. "She's the President of the Student Council. And she fences, too, even if the teachers don't really like it. They don't think girls should, but she started a team anyway. They don't officially compete, though. But she's brilliant! Everyone loves her. They call her the Prince."

Luke watched the girl, moving quick and skilled, and thought he could understand why. But there was something terribly lonely in her eyes.

He looked away for a moment-- and drew in a sharp breath. Over there, in one of the other buildings-- watching the bout-- oh, of course he would be watching the bout--

He took off running, without a backward glance. He still wasn't entirely sure he'd seen it-- it was impossible, wasn't it? The Professor belonged to England, through and through-- but he'd caught a glimpse of a top hat, a high-collared jacket--

It might have been a mirage, because he would have sworn it was just past this corner, and the match was hardly even in sight anymore-- just the crowd, gasping and cheering. What this building was, he didn't know-- it seemed to overlook a garden, of all things, red rosebushes and apple trees twined around iron fences. Not much of a garden, either-- all the fences were broken, leaning out at dangerous angles, and rotting apples littered the ground.

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to visit in such a long time," said the Professor, one hand resting lightly on a brick-red column.

"It's all right," said Luke. "It's a long trip."

"Still, I shouldn't have abandoned you."

"Don't get the wrong idea. I'm doing just fine. I just-- was wondering why you were here, is all." He swallowed. He mustn't sound hurt; he mustn't sound jealous. Even if the Professor had let him go, he hadn't had a choice; he had to be mature about it. He wouldn't want him to worry.

The Professor sighed, adjusting his hat; the light caught something on his finger, and Luke blinked. "A ring? What, did you get engaged?"

"...This ring is what called me here," said the Professor, looking down at it. "The Seal of the Apple..."

"Seal of the Apple...?"

"You'll know what to do, I think. Better than I." He smiled at Luke.

Luke felt troubled; he wasn't sure why. He looked back out at the orchard. "But I still don't understand, how--?"

He looked back up; the Professor was gone.

"Well... damn," Luke muttered, though he knew the Professor wouldn't approve of him swearing. If he really cared, then he shouldn't disappear like that.

All the plants outside were glistening, like they'd been caught in a passing rain; Luke thought maybe he'd noticed a drizzle at some point, he wasn't sure. He walked out into the orchard; really, the fences the roses had grown over looked almost like filigree crosses, they were so broken-down and rusted.

It didn't make sense.

He looked up at the branches of the apple tree above him, and thought he saw something glittering there. It must be just a glimpse of the sky between the leaves, but--

Something fell into his hand. He very nearly dropped it-- it was terribly small, it would have been miserable looking for it in the grass-- but caught himself in time, and held the thing up to the light.

It was a ring, thick and gold, and on the front was--

A slider puzzle. Luke laughed-- didn't it just figure?-- and fished a sharpened pencil out of his pocket, to move the tiny pieces around.

It was strange. He hadn't been to a boarding-school before, but this seemed wrong. He didn't know why the Professor was here. He didn't know how he himself had got here, really; the last thing he remembered was... was...

Well, at any rate, something was odd. This entire school, this entire town... there was something odd about it. Really terribly similar to St. Mystere, except the tower had changed, and the colour-- brick-red. Blood-red. And the people....

Lucy. Lucy had been in St Mystere. In the alley with the cat. Except she'd been younger, then.

Why would she be here?

Click, click, click, and the puzzle was finished: an apple in a circle, outlined in red. This was the ring the Professor had. The one he said had brought him here.

Apples...

He looked up. He could see the platform better from here, though he still had no idea what was holding it up. There was a staircase that led up to it. He was pretty sure he could get to it from this building. He also had a feeling that he should.

The staircase looked more like a suspension bridge, from here; it reminded him of the one that led to the Duke's castle, which reminded him of a puzzle. At least this one didn't have age-worn footboards. He took a deep breath, feeling unsteady, and kept his eyes on the end, like the Professor had taught him; there was a gate up ahead, and he thought he saw more roses and trees. It was a strange gate-- it looked almost broken, like the top half had been sliced from the bottom in a clean cut and was beginning to slip to the ground. It wasn't moving, though; it had to be deliberate. It was built that way.

A broken gate.

There was someone on the platform. A girl, in a neat, worn school uniform, like the one he'd seen on Lucy. Her hair was pinned up neatly, and she was terribly familiar.

There wasn't a railing on the edge of the platform; it was just flat, which seemed terribly dangerous. He didn't like how close she was standing to the edge, either. There were some trees around the edges of the field, but mainly the place was blanketed with crimson roses, impossibly many, petals caught in every passing breeze.

Flora was holding a white rose. He didn't know where she could have got it from, in this sea of red. She was smiling, hands folded, and he was terribly worried about her.

"Hello," she said.

"What is this place?" he asked.

"It's the Academy. They put me in charge of the roses here, you see. Though, really, it's the roses that are in charge of me."

The wind blew past them, ruffling his coat; Luke was sure something was wrong.

"But what brings you here?" said Flora.

"I was wondering what this place was. It's very nice."

"But... aren't you supposed to be gone?" she asked, brow creasing. "With the Professor?"

"The Professor..." He looked down at the ring.

Flora drew in a sharp breath. "Where did you get that?"

"It just-- hey, watch it!" Flora darted forward, grabbing for the ring; Luke jumped back, keeping it away. "What's the matter with you?!"

"You shouldn't have that, it's--"

"--Not a thing for little boys," said Don Paolo, standing in front of the broken gate.

Luke stared. There was no reason in hell for Don Paolo to be here. He was utterly, irrationally certain that this wasn't really him. Which made the fact that he was wearing a version of the school uniform a little less unsettling.

"She's the Golden Apple, you see," he said. "She belongs to whoever can win her."

"Belongs...?" Luke's eyes narrowed.

"There's quite a custody fight going on. That ring is the mark of a duelist, boy. Whoever wins the duels wins her. And she can give you the power to change the entire world. But you're not ready for such things."

Luke glared at him. "That doesn't make any sense at all! You can't win a person!"

"I already have. Come here, Flora."

And Flora did. There was a terribly blank look on her face, a studied, polite vagueness. "Children have to be taken care of," she said. "Especially girls."

"But him?!"

"He won the duels. He has the right."

"You don't like it?" said Don Paolo, smirking. "Then fight me. You have a ring, don't you?"

'You'll know what to do,' the Professor had said.

Luke looked into Flora's shuttered eyes, and knew that the Professor was right.

He slipped the ring onto his finger.

Bars crashed down through the broken gate, blocking the way out. Don Paolo smiled. "Of course, you can't duel without a sword," he said.

Luke looked around, then stepped forward, stomping hard. A rake flew upward out of the rose petals, which he caught neatly in one hand. "This'll do, for fighting someone like you," he said, glaring at him.

"Wait, please wait," said Flora, "he's new to this, he doesn't understand--"

Don Paolo shoved her back roughly-- she went down into the roses, wrists scratching against the thorns. "Don't speak out of turn, young lady," he growled.

"Don't you touch her!" Luke yelled.

"You see? It's too late for complaining! Prepare the duel, Flora!"

Lower lip trembling, she stood, and pinned a red rose to Don Paolo's jacket.

"Whoever gets the rose knocked from their lapel wins," she said, quietly, as she pinned her white rose to his. "Luke... I don't want you to be hurt. You really don't understand..."

Bells started ringing, somewhere; Don Paolo drew a sword. "The bells ring at the beginning of the duel, Flora. Get away!"

She turned and walked away-- and Don Paolo lunged forward. Luke hadn't quite realized he'd have a real sword, but he was too angry now to care. "Are you serious?!" he yelled. "This is so stupid!"

"Stupid?!" Don Paolo lunged forward; Luke jumped back. His blows were powerful, and all Luke knew of fencing he'd learned by watching the Professor. He'd never tried it before on his own.

But a gentleman behaved with honour.

"She's not a possession! She can't belong to you just because you win some stupid duel! Who wants to live like that?!"

"She's a girl, child," said Don Paolo. The wood of the rake handle was beginning to splinter; Luke gritted his teeth and pressed on. "Girls must be taken care of."

"She's Flora! She's old enough to take care of herself!"

Don Paolo sneered, with a strike that took off the last foot of the rake's handle entirely. "You don't know anything about the world, little boy," he said.

"I know how to be a gentleman," he answered. "And I know Flora, too."

Don Paolo's next strike knocked the broom out of Luke's hands; he gasped, as Don Paolo roared, preparing a finishing blow, and wasn't this just supposed to be about roses--?

Something hit him, but it wasn't a sword. It was-- Flora, looking down at him, tears in her eyes as she launched them both out of the way.

"You can't duel without a sword," said Flora, and pressed her lips to his.

Luke didn't understand. Luke didn't understand anything. But... it didn't feel wrong. Not quite.

They hit the ground. "You're not allowed to interfere!" Don Paolo was screaming. Luke didn't care; he knew the man was irrelevant, even if he wasn't sure why.

Flora sat up, leaning back. A strange light gathered around her, so bright Luke had to shield his eyes-- and there was a sword, an elegant handle protruding from her heart.

"A sword, huh?" Luke murmured, and went with it.

The sword slipped out easily from her chest, clean and glittering, and with it, Luke felt like he could do anything at all. He looked up; Don Paolo hesitated, just for a moment, then shook his head, coming at him with everything he had. Luke just sprang upward, knowing that wouldn't be enough.

Their strikes fell. Red petals flew.

"What..." said Don Paolo, frozen in shock; he never had known how to lose.

Luke didn't care about him. He was watching Flora, who stood up, with a smile that was just for him.

The hilt of the sword was heavy and rough in his hand. Luke was sure he'd just learned something important, but he didn't have the faintest idea what it was.

(~)


	2. there's no such thing as a prince

(~)

there's no such thing as a prince

(~)

There was something dreamlike about this whole thing, Luke thought, but he wasn't sure what that meant. It didn't mean none of it mattered; he was pretty sure of that. In fact, it might mean _all _of it mattered, more than anything. But he didn't know why these things were happening, or what they meant, or what it was he was supposed to do.

Or why Flora was like this. He didn't think of her like that, did he?

He shook his head; Lucy had told him where his room was (hadn't she?), and at this point, all he wanted to do was get some rest.

The whole building looked deserted; he wrinkled his nose at the cobwebs in the halls. It looked like it had been abandoned for years; why would he be assigned to live in a dormitory with no other students in it? Other than that, the place looked quite homey, under the grey of the dust-- almost like an English cottage, with slightly more formalized lines.

He opened the door to his room, pulling his bag behind him, and blinked. There wasn't any dust in this room at all. It was brightly-lit, with lamps glowing golden everywhere, and he suspected that had something to do with Flora, who was scrubbing the floor, her hair tied back under a maid's cap.

"Hello," she said, rubbing her brow, with a warm smile. "Welcome home."

"Er," he said. "Why... I mean, thanks and all, but what are you doing here?"

"You won the duel, didn't you?" she said. "That means you're the one who takes care of me. And that means I take care of you."

"...What," said Luke.

"That's the way it goes, isn't it? One person takes care of everything in the outside world, and the other takes care of everything at home."

"But... you've been cleaning people's rooms because they won a duel?" Luke shook his head. "That doesn't give them any right..."

"Well, how would you know? You're a boy. You're allowed to take care of yourself." She dropped the rag back in the bucket, scowling.

"And you're not?"

"No! I'm not! It's all towers and guardians and in loco parentis and stay here, they'll take care of you until a man comes and takes you away and... that's the way it is. There's no changing it, anyway. But, I am happy it's you." She looked up, with a smile that looked almost genuine.

Luke thought about it. It was true, they'd rescued her from a tower-- and yeah, looking back, it must have been a little bit strange, just waiting for the person who could solve all those puzzles. That person, just taking charge of you. It hadn't seemed too strange to Luke at the time-- and after all, hadn't she got the Professor out of it? It'd worked out quite well.

But... maybe there were other ways it could have gone.

"You're older now, though," he said. "I can see that you're older. And you're not in a tower anymore."

"Aren't I?" She glared at him. "How would you even know? You're gone, you're a boy, you're a child. You don't understand."

"None of that is my fault!"

"Then just listen when I tell you how it is!" She folded her arms in a huff. "I'm stuck in this Academy, Luke. When the person who took care of me went away, they started shuttling me around to the lowest bidder. And there was not a thing I could do."

"But-- what about the Professor? What would he think, seeing you just give up like this? He always said you should be a proper lady! He always said you were smart enough to do whatever you wanted! He--"

"Shut up!" she screamed, throwing the bucket against the wall. "Just shut up about the Professor! He's not here, is he?!"

"How did you--?"

"It doesn't matter what he said! He's not my father, he's not _your _father, and he's not here!" She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Luke blinked, swallowing past a lump in his throat. After a moment, he dropped his bag on the bed, undoing the straps.

Beneath an insulating layer of clothes, he had a picture of the three of them-- he thought it was Granny Riddleton who'd taken it, somewhere along the line. Luke was grinning, giving the camera an exuberant thumbs-up; the Professor was smiling tolerantly, one hand on Flora's shoulder, the other adjusting his hat; and Flora was laughing, looking up at him. She'd loved him then.

His ward, not his apprentice. All he'd had that she hadn't were the adventures, and she'd wanted even that.

He bit his lip. And now that he had to go away, she'd have-- everything. What the hell was she so angry about?!

Luke looked down at the photograph, at the ring on his finger. Every puzzle, he thought.

He wasn't willing to believe that the Professor could ever have been wrong.

(~)

She'd come back to the roses, Luke found. To this place far above the school grounds. Like the tower they'd found her in, maybe... the same height, and strangely wide-open, like those top floors had been. Roses and apple-trees, this high above the earth... he wasn't sure how it was possible. How that tower had been possible, come to think of it. It was all artificial, wasn't it? Created just for her... and that had to be strange, didn't it?

Luke wouldn't know. He'd never had anything just for himself in his entire life.

She was watering the flowers-- or pretending to; there were pipes all around them, this place was too big just to go around with a can. She didn't water these herself at all. "Hello," she said. Like the last conversation hadn't happened.

"What are you doing up here?" he asked.

"Watering the roses. It's my job."

"Right." He didn't roll his eyes, because a gentleman wouldn't, but he came terribly close.

"And why are you here?" she asked, voice almost imperceptibly edged. "Why are you in this Academy? Shouldn't you be with the Professor, Luke? Wasn't that always your--"

"_Shut up!_"

Luke knocked the ridiculous watering can from her hand, found himself pinning her shoulders to the apple tree. This wasn't what a gentleman did at all. But maybe she was right: maybe that didn't matter anymore. "This is all your fault, isn't it?!"

"What--?"

"You're the reason he's been gone for so long! You're the reason he's been acting so strangely! Everything was fine! Everything was fine before! I--"

Luke swallowed, looking down, trying to breathe deeply. "Nothing makes sense anymore," he said. "I don't know what's happening to me. Or to you. Or to him. I thought... I just didn't think it would ever end. I should've, I knew it could have, but I didn't ever think, I didn't believe they'd ever call me away..."

"...Your parents?" she murmured, a little short of breath herself, eyes wide.

"And now I'm here, and I don't know why I had to leave him, and you should still be with him, you get to keep him, because you're his ward and I'm his apprentice and I don't have the right to care about him as much as you can, because you're his, and you're a girl, too, and that doesn't even matter because I don't know where he is. I can't find him, and you haven't seen him, and he wouldn't leave. He's a gentleman. He'd never leave. Except he's gone."

He started shaking, feeling wild and dangerous, burying his head in her shoulder. "But there never was any such thing as a gentleman, was there?"

She was silent, wrapping an arm around him, stroking a hand through his hair.

"There's no such thing," he whispered, and realized that gave him full license to cry.

(~)

_He'd woken up in water, which had stirred all sorts of strange, panicky insticts in him-- and yet they were all muted, surreal, and he just levered himself up a little, staring at the strange reflections. It almost didn't look like a reflection at all-- the sky was deep and distant, and it almost looked like a world of its own, reflected there in the water, vast and perfect._

_But where had the water come from?_

_He sat up, turning his head toward the sound of rushing water. Flora was standing there, with a soft smile, the pipes that watered the roses broken, the platform beginning to flood._

_She'd extended a hand in invitation. He'd hesitated-- after all the things they'd said to each other-- but he'd taken it, even though he still wasn't sure what was going on._

_And then they were dancing, to music he couldn't hear, and he felt full of-- potential, like he was on the edge of becoming something strange and powerful, himself and not himself, familiar and new. Like he could transform, right now-- or maybe-- maybe grow up. _

_It was terrifying. And wonderful, too._

He looked up; the rest of the class was leaving, milling about. He thought he'd heard something about drawing, about breaking up into pairs, but he hadn't really been paying attention at all. He was closer to figuring it out, now, even if he didn't have the slightest clue how. He'd got a feel for it, by now, after his life of puzzles. Thoughts muddled and confused, but something in them feeling vaguely right, like he could tell there was a trail, that he was still on it-- he knew the feeling. He'd learned to trust it.

Flora was the only one left, with a notebook and a smile.

"I guess it's the two of us, then," he said.

"I suppose it is," she said. "I know a place with a wonderful view."

"That garden again?"

"The tower has an observation deck. You can see everything, from there."

At this point, the thought certainly had its appeal. "All right."

She turned, leading the way, which was just as well, as Luke still didn't understand this place. Buildings connected in ways they shouldn't, piled on top of each other in strange ways, developed labyrinthine paths that no decent architect could have thought practical.

"Hey, Flora--" he said, looking up, and how had she got so far ahead of him? He ran forward, nearly catching up. She didn't look back, just kept on moving, the blade of the tower looming larger through the windows.

"Flora-- hey, wait up a second, I-- Flora!!"

Maybe she couldn't even hear him; she didn't hesitate even a little. Luke growled to himself, wondering how she'd managed to climb a whole flight of stairs ahead of him. "Flora! Why won't you-- Flooooora!"

He had to run in earnest now; he caught her before the elevator doors closed, though it was a near thing. He glared up at her as he leaned against the wall, panting for breath.

"It will be quiet up there," she said. "No one else knows about that place. It's the only place where I can be alone."

"I thought the garden...?"

"No. Everyone comes there. It's where I'm supposed to be. If I don't want to be found, I have to go somewhere I'm not supposed to be."

He supposed that made sense. A little, anyway. "Why don't you want to be found?"

The elevator doors opened. "Because they all want me to do things," she said, stepping out into the room. The front windows looked bare and dusty, with sills low and wide enough to sit on. Flora did, leaning her head against the glass. "Clean the common room. Do your exercises. Tend the flowers. Finish your embroidery. Don't talk too loudly. Smile. That's their favourite. Smile."

"Embroidery?" said Luke.

"That's what they teach us here," said Flora. "Smiling. Being what they call a 'lady'. I wonder if the Professor would agree. Maybe he would."

"Here?" said Luke.

"The Academy," she said. "That's where I live. It even haunts my dreams, now. But when I'm dreaming, at least I'm a little bit in control of it. It isn't really this red. And there's not quite so many towers."

Luke swallowed, looking out. It looked a lot more like St. Mystere from up here.

"Juliet will want to fight you," she said. "She thinks I should join the fencing team. She thinks I won't do it because I'm afraid of fighting, or because I don't want to anger the teachers. But that isn't it at all, really."

Flora smiled, with a soft laugh, as she turned her head back toward the town. "She wants me to stand up for myself and what I want, and she won't take no for an answer."

"That... sounds a little contradictory, doesn't it?"

"Now you're beginning to see." Flora smiled. "I told you you can see everything, from here."

"Well, the whole town, anyway," said Luke.

"What else is there?"

Luke turned away from the windows. Wide and bright as they were, the room in front of them was fairly dim, only slowly growing clear. It looked like a sitting-room, a rather nice one. Luke didn't really remember what the house at the top of the Tower had looked like-- he'd only been there for a minute or two, and he'd had a lot more on his mind than the decor-- but vague memory and puzzle-sense were telling him it had looked like this.

"I'm supposed to stay here until someone comes to rescue me," said Flora.

"You used to leave it, before," said Luke, squinting at the painting on the wall. It was far away, and the outlines were crude-- a triangular dark mass against a dark bue sky--

"I'm not allowed, anymore," she said. "The Tower is locked. And I'm not allowed to leave. Not until someone comes for me."

"So you just stay here, now," he said. "You don't even try to sneak away."

"I lost my fake glasses a long time ago. But they weren't much of a disguise. They only worked because everyone let me pretend."

"And now?"

"Now it's time to put away childish things," she said. "Now it's time to be a lady."

"This isn't what that means..."

"But you can't be a lady without a gentleman to protect you," she said. "And I don't think anyone's coming to rescue me."

"This can't be what that means."

"And if a woman can't be a lady... then what can she become?"

There was someone sitting in the armchair. She wore a stole, and a long gown; her arm was raised as if to pet a cat, but she wasn't moving, not at all.

Luke drew in a sharp breath. There were other dark shapes back there. More and more of them. The light was growing only slowly, but if caught a familiar mustache, a familiar belly, a familiar twist of hair--

"They took my father's fortune," said Flora. "They made me tell them where it was, and they took it. And then they took me to the Academy, and left me here, even though I didn't know anybody. It's all... everything, everyone's gone."

He heard her take a wobbly breath. "Because someone had to take care of me."

And Luke swallowed back tears, beginning to understand.

(~)


	3. and even if the two of us are torn apart

(~)

(and even if the two of us are torn apart)

(~)

Juliet was good. Juliet was very good.

"What, are you going to rescue her?" she said, stepping back. She knew all the rules, and was prepared to disregard them; she'd had practice in fighting, and Luke had barely even seen it done. "Is that your big plan?"

She lunged forward, tight ringlets flying in the wind. Luke didn't know why the hell they were fighting on a narrow walkway-- another railless one high above the ground, as a matter of fact. He didn't remember how he'd got there, quite. But he thought maybe he knew why.

_"When I'm dreaming, at least I'm a little bit in control of it,"_ Flora had said. It seemed dreamlike because it was a dream.

It seemed unfamiliar because it wasn't his.

"You're just a boy," she laughed, as he stumbled backward. "You're very good, I grant you that, but you're just a boy. You can't take her away from here."

He growled, lunging forward-- but she feinted, out of his reach, still laughing at him. "You do have potential, though. I could train you."

"Pay attention to what she wants," he snapped, trying again-- she whirled, catching his blade in a bind. Luke's breath caught as it was pulled from his grasp, clattering to the stone of the walkway.

And she wasn't even pressing her advantage; he was that insignificant to her. "As if you care. You're still trying to play the gentleman, aren't you? Obsessed with that Professor of yours--"

"Who told you about the Professor?!"

"--it's a stupid reason to fight, just because you think you're supposed to. You'll never win if you're just trying to become someone else."

Luke closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He _wanted_ to be a gentleman. He _wanted_ to be like the Professor. He wanted to be good. That wasn't such a bad thing, was it?

_Only if you don't understand what it really means._

Luke felt a strange calmness descend upon him. He bent down, picking up his sword; he thought he heard Flora gasp, but he knew he must attend to the task at hand. He adjusted the top hat on his head, and settled into position.

"What? You can't hope to win with a stance like that," Juliet laughed, and started forward, ready for the final pass.

So was he. Quietly, deliberately, he ducked under her attack, and cut the rose from her lapel in one swift motion.

He heard her gasp, behind him; he heard the bells ring out, for the end of the duel. He raised a hand to his head; there was only his worn old cap.

"Luke..." said Flora, staring at him.

And then someone screamed.

Luke looked down; it was the courtyard, underneath the apple tree. "He's dead!" someone was screaming. "He's really dead!"

"But who could have done it?!"

"The one whose garden it is, of course!" someone yelled. "It's the witch! That's why she's alone. Everyone she knows has died. It's because she's not a lady at all. She's a witch. She's the one who killed them."

Luke looked up. Flora was gone, without a trace, even though he knew she'd been standing there just a second ago.

"Flora!" he cried, and rushed into the maze of the buildings.

(~)

He didn't know where he was going, so he just followed the signs. He didn't understand half the rooms he was running through; this wasn't his dream.

If they'd taken her father's fortune, then everyone in that town was gone. Shut down, like an amusement park in the light of day, lifeless and frozen. All of the people she'd grown up with, even if they weren't quite real-- her friends, her mentors, the copy of her mother-- gone, just like that. Because she'd told them how to find it. Because...

There were road signs and street signs and train-signals, too, and they all were leading him one way. He didn't know why it looked like a lobby-- maybe it was the front area of the real Academy, maybe she'd sat here, in these scarlet chairs, while the forms were signed and the blood-money changed hands-- but there was an elevator in the back, and he was pretty sure he wanted to go up.

So naturally, as soon as the doors closed behind him, the elevator started down.

Well... Maybe he needed to go down first anyway.

There was a chair in the middle of the elevator, facing the left wall; he knew it was ridiculous, but he also knew it was a dream, so he sat down, with a long sigh, his head dropping forward to stare blankly at the red carpet.

There were a pair of shoes in front of him.

He looked up. The left wall wasn't a wall anymore-- or maybe the elevator was just a lot wider now than he remembered. "Professor," said Luke.

"Hello, my boy," said the Professor. His smile was as warm as Luke remembered, and just as sad. Just as sad as--

"I should come to visit more often, you know," he said.

"It's funny," said Luke, looking back down. "Ever since I came here, I couldn't remember."

"Couldn't remember what?"

"How I got here. How that last adventure of ours ended. Ever since I came here, I forgot."

"Perhaps... perhaps that's for the best." His eyes skittered away, and the false bravado in his voice was obvious, even to a boy.

"You're a bad liar, Professor," said Luke. He could hear the echoes of it, even now; the crash, that shook the planks beneath them, the screaming that had begun.

"...You shouldn't have to do this," said the Professor. "You shouldn't have to remember such things."

"That's not what you believe in at all. You could never leave any puzzle unsolved. And you taught me well, Professor. You taught both of us well."

He could hear the second crash, the louder one, the earth-rending crack; he could feel the Professor's hand on his shoulder as they fell, with what was left of the rest of the bridge, to the cold water below.

"...I left you," he said. "That was... a terribly dishonourable thing to do. I hadn't even... hadn't even begun to..."

"You couldn't have known. You couldn't have expected it. Nothing Don Paolo did ever worked before."

_"Luke... Luke, stay with me, stay awake. The-- the stars are bright out here-- oh, that reminds me of a puzzle. Can you solve this, Luke?"_

"It's an adult's job to prepare for such things. It's an adult's job to take care of his children."

Luke smiled, looking up, tears in his eyes. "But you did," he said. "Don't you remember?"

_"I've got it-- Professor, Professor, look at me. I've got it. You need three lines."_

_"Ah... very, very good, m-my boy. There's another one, about boats--"_

_"Professor, the water's cold, you have to get up here--"_

_"It s-simply isn't big en-nough for me, Luke. It's a m-miracle you're staying on. Besides. It's n-not a very cold night. And the s-search teams shall be here a-any m-moment. T-Two boats, Luke..."_

The Professor looked away. "I should never have taken you on such a ridiculous trip in the first place..."

"That's all nonsense. I wouldn't have let you leave me behind."

_"Professor...?"_

"That isn't a child's decision--"

"None of that matters, none of that matters at all..." Luke stood up. "Professor... Don't do this. It wasn't your fault."

"I should have been able to find a way, though," he said, looking utterly miserable.

Luke just shook his head. "You're my hero, you know," he said. "You taught me so much. You taught me everything."

"I'm not your father, though."

"You were to me." Luke smiled, reaching out to him. There seemed to be an invisible wall dividing the two halves of the elevator; all he could do was press his palm against it, and wait for the Professor to do the same.

After a moment, he did, hat pulled low over his face.

"Professor?" he asked, very softly. "Did I die, too?"

"I... don't know." The Professor closed his eyes, leaning forward; Luke followed suit, like a mirror image, though he knew he never really would be. But maybe that could be all right.

"...It's okay," said Luke. "It doesn't really matter. I know what I have to do."

"And what would that be, my boy?" said the Professor, voice gone almost rough. Not as bad as that day, but Luke's eyes closed in sympathy.

"The same thing you have to do," he said. "The right thing."

"Oh, Luke." He looked up, to see the Professor smiling at him. "I am so very proud of you."

The Professor leaned forward; Luke felt a hand ruffling through his hair, lips brushing gently across his forehead. He heard water, pouring into the room, and opened his eyes, to see it flooding the Professor's half of the elevator-- dark river water, already to his waist, and the memory hurt, even if Luke knew there was nothing to be done about it. He swallowed, and looked up; the Professor was still smiling at him, as the water closed over his head.

_Goodbye, Luke_, he mouthed, as the water began to carry him away.

"Goodbye, Professor," Luke whispered, tears spilling from his eyes as he watched the Professor drift further, and further-- and then turn, following the current of his own accord.

The elevator doors opened. The left wall was just a wall, solid and blank.

Luke took a deep breath, not sobbing, though the tears were still flowing freely from his eyes. He turned from the door, and only winced a little when he saw the bridge that led up to the broken gate. He'd crossed it before, after all. And this was what he knew he had to do.

Flora was in the garden, in a flowing white dress; she stood when she saw him come through the gate, and he could swear she was smiling for real this time.

"You've done it," she said. "You've won. This whole place is yours now... you can do anything you want with it. You can change this whole world."

She raised a hand to her chest; Luke took it, stopping her. He found himself smiling, even though he had some idea of what they'd be in for. "Let's go," he said.

"Go?" Flora blinked.

"To the outside world. It's about time we woke up." He was grinning, now.

"But-- but you could--!"

"I don't want to live trapped in a dream. I don't care what's out there waiting for me; I don't care if it's dangerous. Let's go."

"But-- Luke!" She grabbed his hand, pulling back as he started to walk away, but the wind was picking up, now; he'd set something in motion neither of them could call back. "Don't leave me!"

"You don't want to stay here. You don't have to. The door's open, Flora. You can walk out of it anytime you want." He kept pulling, gently but steadily; he wasn't going to change his mind.

"You don't understand. I can't-- it isn't-- it's _horrible_ there, this is all I--"

"It's horrible _here_," said Luke. "Hadn't you noticed? Haven't you thought about it, at all? How you can get out of this place? You're too clever not to have planned it. You don't like living like this at all. What's the worst that can happen, if you try and fail? What's the worst that can happen if you try and succeed?"

She bit her lip, staring up at him. The wind he'd called was pulling him, now, like the water and the Professor, and he wondered if it was leading him to the same place. "I don't have anyone," she said. "In the whole world, I don't have anyone. And there's so many problems, so many people who would stop me, so much paperwork, so many--"

"Puzzles?"

"Oh, _damn _you, Luke, don't you even--"

"Every puzzle has an answer," he said. "And you are good at puzzles. Try. Even if you fail, you've got to try."

The wind had him actually off the ground, he noticed, though it didn't seem to be blowing nearly hard enough for that; Flora seemed to notice it for the first time, glancing up at his face and down at his feet and back again. "Luke!"

"I believe in you," he said. "I don't care how impossible it seems. You can make something out of it."

"_Luke!_"

"I've got to go," he said, "and so do you. Goodbye, Flora."

His hand slipped from hers, and he was gone.

(~)


	4. take my revolution

(~)

(take my revolution)

(~)

Flora fell to her knees, staring up at the sky. She hadn't had a nightmare like this in a long time. Ever since the Academy came to her dreams... All of her dreams had been dark and dull and aching, as all the people in her life bounced her around the court like a tennis ball, but none of it had _hurt_, since it started. Not like it had before. Not like this.

Every puzzle has an answer. One of the most ridiculous lies she'd ever believed.

_"Learn to stand up for yourself!" said Janet._

She bit her lip, seeing broken clockwork figures and men in impeccable suits and rooms where all the furniture was new. Men in long white coats and nurses in neat hats. Men and women in dark suits, the scratchiness of black veiling, the pompous voices of people who stood up and talked at someone else's funeral just to pretend they'd been important to them. The voices of people talking over her, around her, about her, whether she was there or not. A particularly vexing omission in the will. Not even a puzzle to be solved: a problem to be dealt with, to be shut away. A princess in a tower. Only she didn't think she was going to be rescued twice.

_"The door's open," said Luke._

She hadn't felt it, hadn't had to think about it, in such a long time. She hadn't had to remember, not while she was here. All she had to do here was what she was asked. To suffer for her sins.

_"I do believe you have a talent for this, my girl," said the Professor._

But Luke had been right. She had plans. She'd spent days and weeks hammering out plans for how to get out of this place. She knew none of them could ever work, but still, every daydream she had-- even to this day! she realized, startled. Even to this day, every book she read, everywhere she watched, every person she talked to-- she was making plans for escape.

None of them would work, though. Flora clutched the ring Luke had left behind tightly in her hand. She was a young, unmarried woman, having just barely attained her majority, with little official schooling and less legal standing. If her father's legacy even existed anymore, it was tied up in stocks and trusts and bonds, "guarded" for her until... well, they'd never said 'until'. She had a feeling she was supposed to forget about that, to chase after and win some relatively well-off boy and spend the rest of her life being grateful that he was generous enough to support her. That's what they told all the girls here, after all.

But. There might be ways. There were barristers who might work on contingency, policemen who still might remember the Professor's name. There were soup kitchens and charities and shops that needed workers; there were dingy flats and distant relatives and people who might, just might, be trustworthy.

There were also tyrants and thieves and monsters who stalked the streets, just looking for a girl with no defenders.

And if she did manage it. If she got enough money to live on her own, managed to get away from the people who would be disapproving and scandalized at the very thought of an unattached female. If she gave up on waiting for someone to rescue her... then she would be alone.

_But someone came before. There are people out there who are worth knowing. There are people who will care about you even when they don't have to. It's not just them. It can't just be them._

She didn't know what might happen, if she left this place, if she started to act of her own volition instead of just following the rules she was set. But... that was part of growing up, wasn't it? That was what everyone had to do, no matter how hollow and lonely it was. That was what it meant to grow up. Not this.

There was a noise behind her. She turned, slowly; there was a car, in the middle of all these roses, old-fashioned and powder-blue. Not as tall as the Laytonmobile, but she was reminded of it anyway. "Luke?" she murmured; a nonsensical thought, but then again, this was a dream. She'd known that from the start.

She couldn't drive. She didn't have the faintest idea how. She'd never be allowed. She'd probably kill herself if she tried.

And yet the idea had the most intoxicating, terrifying appeal.

She looked down, and opened her hand. There was a small silver key inside.

"Well," she murmured to her subconscious. "I still think this will kill me, but-- I can take a hint."

The platform lurched, and started to move downward; Flora took one long look at the trail of red petals rising upward like the opposite of rain, and got into the car. The instrumentation was a little vague-- she'd never even been allowed to sit in the front seat of a car, not once in her life-- but she understood the principles, and she was a fast learner with nothing to lose.

The platform ground downward, and downward, and shuddered to a halt; there was a tunnel up ahead, dark and forbidding and wide.

Flora nodded. "Let's go," she said. "To the outside world."

She turned the key.

The motor roared, and the entire world felt different, somehow. Further away. Far more dangerous.

Flora found the gas pedal and pushed it to the floor.

"Hi, everyone!" the radio chirped fuzzily, as Flora breathed deep, eyes focused hard on the road ahead of her, even though she knew it was just a dream. "This is Eelie's-- and Effie's-- live radio coverage!"

_Where on earth is this coming from?_ Flora shook her head, breezing past the signs, the warning lights, the fences.

"And today's main event is, racing!" said one of the girls. "Currently, Flora Reinhold is in the lead all by herself. Which is to be expected when there's only one car!"

The road curved upward at an angle that didn't seem wholly possible; Flora followed it, hugging the curve, getting the hang of this. She could get to like the motion of it, the momentum, though even if she did somehow learn to drive in the real world, she'd never be doing it ths fast.

"Ah! Not so fast," cried one of the announcers. "Scanners show that a pack of black cars are advancing from behind!"

_Scanners?_ Flora thought, and looked up to the mirror. There were dark shapes on the road behind her-- and far, far too many little scarlet headlights.

"Where did they come from?" one of the announcers wondered. Flora bit her lip; there was something strange about this. This didn't feel like-- hers, somehow. This felt almost like someone else's dream. This felt terribly dangerous.

That was probably because it was. Flora reminded herself of the metaphor of it, turning her attention back to the road ahead of her. Of course this was dangerous.

There was a tunnel up ahead, and the black cars were gaining on her, like a pack of dogs or a herd of buzzing locusts. Either of which had a tendency to tear apart whatever they captured.

Flora narrowed her eyes. "I don't care," she muttered, and pressed ahead faster.

"Hello? Hello? Did you enter a tunnel?" said the voices on the radio, before fizzing into static.

Of course. She was alone. She had to be alone.

She looked around at the round walls, nervously, the electric lights glaring a dangerous yellow in the night-- and realized that something was creeping along them.

She gasped, turning the other direction. They were driving _on the walls_, overtaking her, surrounding her completely. Black cars, like the ones at a funeral, except no car she'd ever seen was quite this-- edged. They looked like they had claws. They looked like they had _teeth_.

And they were _on the ceiling_, she realized, shrieking as one crashed down in front of her, and another, and another. She spun the wheel, but she couldn't avoid them all-- oh, god, she was denting the car, the Professor would be furious--

--another car crashed into her side, scraping, and Flora shrieked, jerking the wheel. The car's motor was sputtering, she couldn't get any speed-- "This isn't _working_," she muttered, leaning closer to the wheel, and something in the mirror caught her eye.

Another car, on the ceiling. And this one _was_ a funeral car, far too familiar, a hearse exactly-- just far, far too big.

"Oh, help," she murmured, as the car shook, as the hearse drew closer, though she knew there was no one who could, anymore. "Luke--!"

Something flickered across her vision, landing with a thump in the car's undercarriage. She straightened, shocked, as she felt the car being pulled. Towed. Someone was towing her, and the end of the tunnel was in sight.

There was a loud, wrenching crash just behind her, just where she should have been-- then a series of crashes, metal hurling into metal, and the sky opened up around her.

She looked up. There was a golden rope attached to the front of the car; her eyes followed it upward to-- a perfectly ordinary white lorry, one built for towing, with a crowd of familiar faces sitting on the back.

The breath caught in her throat, as the lorry slowed, letting her match pace with it. Lucy, with her wide smile. Adrea, laughing at her. Matthew, nodding fondly; Lady Dahlia, aristocratically holding Claudia in her lap, even in the middle of a highway.

"There's a bypass up ahead," called Lucy. "That's the way to go."

"But-- but how-- but why?" said Flora.

"You're trying to get to the outside world, aren't you?" said Juliet, from the driver's seat, a smug smile on her face. "High goals attract good company."

"I'm sure you can make it out there," said Lucy. "It'll be hard, but you can do it."

"Sure, you'll probably screw up a lot," said Adrea, "but it'll work out anyway. We're still here for you. And a lot of other people will be too."

"Good luck," said Lady Dahlia. "And goodbye."

The lorry drew away; Flora watched as the road split, the division growing wider and wider, until a dividing wall blocked them from sight entirely.

Not alone after all. She wondered if that really might be true.

"Hey, looks like our transmission can resume," said the radio, with a burst of static. "And friendship saves the day!"

The road was flatter, now; she thought she was heading toward an overpass, on the sort of wide motorway she'd only seen once or twice in her life. It had scared her, to see such a wide swath of pavement. She'd never forgotten.

"Good work," said one of the radio announcers. "You should reach the exit soon."

Flora blinked. She shouldn't be surprised, not in a dream, but hadn't they been treating this as a race? Were they actually talking to her? "To the outside world?" she asked, just in case they really could hear her.

"Yes, not that we've seen it ourselves," said the radio, and Flora jumped. "But it shouldn't be much further away."

"Wait..." said another voice, and Flora wondered just how many of them there were. "We're picking up something on visual. A tower? It that the sign for the exit?"

A shiver ran down Flora's spine, and she realized she could see it coming; a tower, haphazard and lopsided, looming in the middle of the road ahead. On _wheels_, she thought, and shook her head. Somehow she didn't think she'd find this one in 'The Interpretation of Dreams'.

"That's not the exit!" the radio cried. The tower was massive, even larger than it had been in real life; it took up the entire width of the motorway, making the whole bypass tremble in its wake. She stared up, at the gigantic wheels, the warning lights, and tried to remember what this was a metaphor for.

The car was shaking, again, now that she was so close to it; the wheels the thing was riding on were tall as houses, black and imposing. She caught a flash of red in the mirror; the black cars were behind her again, hanging back, patient.

"You'll see a bypass to the left a mile ahead," said the radio. "Take it and come back to our world!"

_Our world?_ Flora thought. It had always been a strangely lucid dream. Was it possible it had not been entirely her own after all?

She glanced back at the cars behind her, and up at the tower that blotted out half the sky. Her home for such a long time. Safe haven, shrine and prison.

"I'm not hiding anymore," she said.

She glanced at the radio. "The exit's probably right there. I just have to get past the tower, first."

"What gives you that idea?" said someone on the radio, sounding dubious.

"Everything," she answered, and found herself smiling, really smiling, for the first time in what felt like forever. "It's time to wake up!"

The car shimmered around her, engine roaring back to new life. Flora stared at the shifting darkness underneath the tower-- and floored it.

The place seemed to be filled with tires, everything moving, like being inside a complicated piece of clockwork, or being in the middle of a block puzzle from hell. The whole place was rigged as a trap; Flora gave in to her reflexes, the wheel spinning, searching frantically for closing walls, for paths opening up ahead. It would've been pitch-black if not for the flares of light from the black cars exploding behind her-- it was almost impossible to tell what was really moving and what was a trick of the flickering light, but she was doing it.

The radio had started up a countdown; she didn't know whether she should trust it, but she hoped she could, because it said this wouldn't last much longer, that she was getting closer to the exit. Just another block puzzle, she thought, narrowly missing the wreckage of a black car, yanking the wheel frantically to the left. The car shook beneath her, but everything held.

"Nine... eight..." said the radio, and she veered to the right. The light was getting brighter, now. "Seven... six..."

She dodged a particularly large tire-- how the tires were moving horizontally she wouldn't even try to fathom. "Five... four.."

Flora could see the exit, now; the path was clear in front of her. "Three... two... one.."

The light was almost overwhelming, after the darkness of the tower. She could hear girls screaming in celebration over the radio, but somehow, she already knew it was premature. Maybe because it was her dream; or maybe because she knew it was a metaphor, and there was one last thing--

Clockwork burst through the tower, growing like an organic thing, pressing close around the car like a net. Metal grated against metal; Flora swallowed as she heard the car's walls slowly start to buckle. She closed her eyes, and looked ahead.

Someone was walking toward her. Someone larger than life, half as tall as the tower itself.

"Father," she whispered, as the car shook around her and the windows shattered.

"That's right," he said, with a warm smile. "It's your father. You don't have to be afraid anymore, Flora. I'll take care of you. We just have to go back to the Tower." He reached out a hand to her, slow, inviting.

"I'm sorry," she said, staring up at him. "You can only protect me if I stay locked up in a tower. But I can't stay trapped forever. I'm growing up, Father. I-- and Luke, too-- we're waking up from this dream. We're going to the outside world."

"Don't," he said. "There's no one to protect you. You have nowhere to go. You'll be hurt."

"Maybe so," she said. "_Probably _so. But that is our choice, and we're making it."

She swallowed. "Goodbye, father," she said, trying to keep the tears from her eyes.

He stared at her, for a long moment-- then smiled. Not her real father's smile; this one was edged, authoritative, smug. "I see," he said. "But I'm afraid I can't allow that, Flora. You'll have to keep being my little Princess in the Tower. It's easy. All you need to do is be a living corpse."

The clockwork closed in around her-- the car was half-gone, by now, a misshapen hunk of metal in the center of the clockwork spider's web. She pressed the accelerator anyway, bit her lip as the car loyally struggled against the gears and pistons. Clockwork, she thought, looking around at it all. Strange, how all she could think was that it reminded her of a puzzle. She'd hated clockwork puzzles, back then, second only to peg solitaire. That was probably why the Professor had given her so many of them.

Puzzles where all the clockwork depended on the motion of just one gear.

She lunged forward, grabbing at the brass gear; the sharp metal scored her fingers, but she didn't care. "I think I've got it," she yelled, pulling it to her chest. She nearly toppled backward when it came free, but she stayed standing, staring up at the phantom of her father as the clockwork fell to pieces around her, gears grinding and jamming, pistons stalling and breaking.

She wasn't afraid anymore, though the metal was flying around her, though the wind was whipping at her hair. She drew back, readying the gear in her hands, and threw. "_Every puzzle has an answer!_" she screamed.

The clockwork shattered, and the tower fell, with a crash loud enough to unmake the entire world. Flora stood in the wreckage, watching her father disappear, wondering if it had been her imagination that hers was not the only voice that had shouted.

But this was all in her imagination, of course.

The light was getting brighter, now; she could tell that it was half sunlight, the morning slipping across her barren room. Still, she was asleep enough that she thought she heard his voice.

"I guess we're beyond all the roads, now," she heard Luke say.

"Where are you going?" she asked. She thought she might have murmured it out loud, but tried not to think about it; she wanted to hold onto this as long as she could.

"I don't know. It doesn't matter. Whatever happens-- I'm not running anymore. Whatever reality turns out to be, I'm going to face it. And whatever happens, I'll deal with when it comes."

"Yes," she whispered. "Even if it's hard. Even if it doesn't work. I have to try."

"Try what?"

Flora blinked. Juliet was looming over her, arms folded.

"What are you doing in my room?" Flora asked.

"Try fencing?" she suggested. "I need more girls who are bold enough to--"

"It's not because they wouldn't like it," Flora interupted. "It's because it brings back memories. Someone... very dear to me was a fencer. He's gone, now, and all in all-- I just don't think I could take it. For so many reasons. And besides, I have no intention of staying in this place long enough to learn."

Juliet blinked. "You're staging a gaolbreak? Since when?"

"Since now," said Flora, and paused. "I don't suppose you'd like to help?"

"Like to help? Is the Pope Catholic?!"

Flora grinned. "Then meet me in the library. Let me show you a few puzzles I've been working on..."

(~)


	5. Epilogue: there's gentlemen yet

(~)

(there's gentlemen yet)

(~)

Flora took a deep breath, looking up at the tall, square building, and thought with an almost religious awe just how many things were possible once you actually bothered to try them. Not easy, not painless, but _possible_, and worth the journey. She'd been raised to solve puzzles, after all. She'd soaked in the Professor's neat completionism like a field soaked in the rain.

Once she'd started applying that principle more broadly, miracles had started to happen.

_The librarian had looked up, a wide smile on her face. "Oh, Flora, I was so hoping you'd come back. It's the curse of the librarian, to find the answer thirty seconds after one's patron walks away."_

_"What?"_

_"I figured it out," she'd said, with the triumph of a puzzle well solved written all over her face. "I know why we couldn't find anything yesterday. Flora, we were looking in the wrong place."_

She wasn't sure how she'd enter--she'd been surprised to discover the main door was locked-- but it wasn't thirty seconds before a grumpy-looking woman carrying two bags of groceries dragged her way up the stairs, fumbling for her keys.

"Oh, ma'am, could I help you with that?"

The woman glared at her, but allowed her to take one of the bags anyway. "I suppose you're looking for Ramon," she muttered.

"Who--"

"Or one of those other idiot boys they've let into the complex. Well, whatever, no skin off my nose. Help me get this to my apartment and you can do whatever you please." She shook her head, holding open the front door.

"Er-- thank you, ma'am." Flora followed, wondering at her luck.

"Though I hope you aren't doing something stupid. You sound smart with that posh British accent, but even the smartest girls can do the dumbest things."

"I'm not here to see my boyfriend," said Flora, adjusting the bag under her arms as they started up the stairs.

The woman leveled a stare at her. "You're not here to see a boy?"

"Well-- I am, actually-- but he's more like... a friend, even a relative. It isn't like that."

"Hmph." The woman did not look credulous. "Sure, kid."

"No, really..."

"Well, I can't think of anyone here who... wait." The woman stopped at the door to the second floor. "That one kid has some kind of English accent. Not like yours, though."

"Luke?" she asked, hopefully.

"Yeah, that's the kid's name. Don't see him much-- some sort of medical thing. Seemed decent enough, I guess."

"Do you know where he lives?"

"Just a second." The woman pushed open the front door, and stopped a few doors down the corridor, pulling out her keys again. "Yeah. I do. Let me get the door open first."

Flora could wait. After all this time, she could definitely wait.

"Okay, yeah. Third floor, 306, I think. Should be in-- he's usually out in the mornings, but he's usually back by now."

"Thank you," said Flora, gratefully, as the woman took her bag back.

"...He's a nice kid, I think," said the woman, with a measuring glare. "Too young to be living alone."

"Aren't his parents around?"

"They visit. Dunno if he wanted to get away from 'em, or if they got jobs to do, or if they just dumped 'im here. Think he's got friends, but they don't visit. Always got a pile of books with him. Says something about making up for lost time."

"There was an accident," said Flora.

"Yeah. Heard something about that." The woman cocked her head. "Anyway, thanks for the help, kid. Have a nice time with your friend."

She closed the door; it was rather abrupt and American of her, but as it gave Flora leave to run straight for the stairs, she couldn't really bring herself to complain.

_"Looking in the wrong place...? What do you mean?"_

_"It's my fault, really. I should have looked at the newspapers in the first place, but that sort of detail is usually only in the official records. But after you left, it occured to me I hadn't looked there."_

_"I thought you checked, the obituaries--?"_

_"I did. Those, I had remembered to check. And Flora, I didn't find anything because we were looking in the wrong place."_

The doors were worn-looking, unadorned flat things with no elegance in them at all. The numbers didn't even have the dignity to be of brass; they looked to be stenciled on, with flaking black paint. But this was 306, and as leaps of faith went, this was nothing.

She took a deep breath and knocked.

"Just a minute!" someone yelled. The voice was deeper than she remembered, the accent worn down, but she would've known it anywhere. "Just a second, I--"

The door opened in front of her, and it was Luke, as tall as she was, in a white shirt and blue vest and what looked almost like the same hat. "--Flora!" he gasped, face blanking with shock.

"Hello, Luke," she said, feeling ridiculously happy.

"Hi! How are you-- why are you-- come in!"

She giggled, and stepped inside. The place was pretty rundown, but Luke kept it neat, except for the piles of books and magazines and glasses that cluttered up the tables. For a boy his age, it was practically a monastery. For a girl her age, it was only a bit of a mess.

"I'm so happy to see you!" said Luke, pushing a pile of books to one side of the couch, freeing up a spot for her to sit. "I always wanted to-- i had no idea how to get in touch with you, you see. Nobody would tell me anything."

"Oh, don't worry, I understand completely," she said, beaming. "They told me you were _dead_."

"What?!" Luke's eyes flew open wide. "How could they?!"

"I think at first it was an honest mistake. There was-- a lot of confusion about it, in the first few days. And later-- I think no one wanted to correct me. it was easier for them."

"Easier?! You're kidding me." Luke shook his head. "I didn't die. They thought I would for a while, though. I was in a coma for an awfully long time."

"Yes, I read about it, once I finally did the proper research." Flora grimaced. "I wish I'd had the courage to look into it sooner. It just... hurt too much, I suppose. I lost the Professor. I thought I'd lost both of you. I didn't want to think about it at all."

"Yeah..." Luke nodded, soberly. "Sometimes I wonder... if that's part of why I stayed asleep so long. I mean, I know there were physical reasons, but I can't help but wonder if I-- wanted to forget. If I knew just what a mess the world I woke up to would be, and didn't want to face it."

"What happened?"

"Oh, I'm fine. There was a lot of physical therapy, but I'm nearly back to normal now. And I've had a ridiculous amount of schoolwork to catch up on." He gestured toward the books, with a grimace. "But I'm more than ready to get an equivalence, and I've got one hell of a biographical essay." He coughed, reddening. "If you'll. Excuse the expression."

"And your parents?"

"They stayed with me for a while... but... we're strangers, really," he said. "We missed an awful lot of time, even before the accident. And they have their own lives, so after a while, they got me this flat, and they even paid for it until I was well enough to get a part-time job. They visit when they're in town. It's not that bad, really."

Flora nodded. "Yes, I think I can understand."

"And what about you? What have you been doing?"

"Well..." She sighed. "After the incident... the executors didn't have the faintest idea what to do with me. They weren't even entirely sure who I was. And once they did find out-- well, they found my inheiritance, and they used it to send me to a finishing school."

"Oh," Luke said, eyes wide. "That means, St. Mystere--"

"I've been back there, since," she said. "I've opened it up. It's not a secret anymore. There are new people living there, now-- really living. Half of them are even just as obsessed with puzzles. It... it was inevitable, really. I wish it could've happened a different way, but-- clockwork winds down. It was a childish dream to think it could just stay the same forever."

"Oh." Luke shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"It's better this way, really. But I was terribly sad about it-- about everything-- for a long time." She tilted her head. "But then I realized that I had come of age, and it was about time I acted like it. I managed to get what was left of my inheiritance-- there was one hell of a legal battle involved with that, I assure you-- oh, sorry."

Luke grinned. "No problem."

"And with the money, I managed to get a flat-- I went to school, too, proper school. I want to accomplish something with my life. I'm thinking maybe I'll study law; I'm sure I'm not the only girl who ever found herself trapped in a finishing school. In fact, I'd wager I was quite lucky."

"That would be brilliant. I'm not sure what I'll be studying..."

"Not archaeology?"

"Oh, I'm considering it. I'm considering it a lot. But-- I'm not sure yet. I want to try some things out first. It wasn't the archaeology that was most important to him anyway."

"No," she said, with a smile. "No, it wasn't."

Luke looked away. "--Good heavens, where have my manners gone. Let me go put on some tea."

"Oh, that would be lovely." She smiled, watching him hurry to the kitchen-- he limped, just a little bit-- and something he passed along the way caught her eye. "Is that-- an epee?"

"Oh! Yes. They wanted me to take up a sport, as part of the therapy, you understand-- and naturally there was only one choice. It wasn't easy finding a proper club that would accept me, this being the States and me not being in a school, but I managed it..."

"It isn't always easy when you do have a school, either." She smiled wickedly. "Maybe we should go a round or two, sometime."

"You know how to fence?!"

"Not at a very high level, yet. I haven't had a lot of time to devote to it. But-- yes, I do."

Luke shook his head. "Guess I shouldn't really be surprised that Juliet bird was so persuasive. Not the sort to take 'no' for an answer."

Flora laughed. "No, no she... wait..." She frowned. "How did you know about Juliet?"

"Huh? I thought-- oh!" Luke turned red. "I'm so sorry. I, er, had this dream-- while I was asleep. You were in it, and it was very long, and I guess it slipped my mind that it didn't actually happen."

"...Were there... rings?" Flora said, though she knew the answer full well. "And was there dueling?"

Luke's mouth dropped open. "You're not serious."

"The Seal of the Apple," she said. "I felt so... trapped. Again."

"I thought it had to be just a dream... but..." He bit his lip. "I guess I never quite believed that. I was too-- awake, during it. Like it wasn't my dream at all. Like it was yours."

"I'm not even sure it was entirely mine," said Flora. "Most of it, yes, but when I tried to get out, it almost felt... like there was something else that wanted me to stay."

Luke stared at her. "This is insane. Although..."

"Hmm?"

"It would mean I got the chance to say goodbye," said Luke, quietly. "Which would mean even if there's more things on heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy, at least we came out of it better."

"I might've given up," said Flora. "Mostly I _had_ given up. Until you snapped me out of it."

"Nah," said Luke. "A doctor told me once that you can't really save anyone. All you can do is unlock the door and hope they step through."

She smiled; Luke turned his head back toward the tea, and Flora sat there, wondering, until the kettle whistled and Luke walked back in.

"It's a bit miserable getting decent tea around here," he said. "They're all mad for teabags. I can't imagine why."

"Hmm." The familiar scent of childhood put a smile on her face. "But I see you've managed it."

"One must always keep one's priorities in line." He grinned, with only the slightest wince of pain, and raised his teacup. "To proper tea."

"To puzzles."

"To Ladies and Gentlemen."

"To the Professor."

Luke nodded, eyes shining. "To the Professor," he agreed.

"And to what he's inspired us to become," said Flora, taking a sip.

"There's gentlemen in the world yet," said Luke. "As long as we're here."

Flora grinned back. "Come on," she said. "It's about time for dinner. Let me take you out tonight."

(~*~)


End file.
